D&D Origins
by Jakertons
Summary: This is a collection of back stories of my favorite D&D characters. They're not very long and they're just exposition dumps but they're not bad. Good for if your looking for inspiration for a new character of your own
1. Chapter 1

This is My favorite character to date. I call him Hermit the mad druid.

Hermit was born to an ancient Druidic order. While this order was very ancient it was dieing. Faith in the old gods was waning and very few powerful druids had been born in the last several hundred years. Hermit was seen by some to be a savior. They saw in him the potential to save their order and maybe even reach arch-druid status. As with all the young in Hermit order he had to pass a right of passage in which he would live for several years in the forest with an elder. There he would spend those years learning about nature and unlocking his control over nature through meditation. Hermit was sent to live with an old woman who taught him about nature and they became good friends. Unfortunately she was quite old and time was taking it's tole. Hermit watch her grow sick and tried to heal her but had not yet gained the power necessary and only ended up hurting himself. As her sickness grew worse he watched as she began to die and even worse as her mind began to slip. She no longer even recognized Hermit's face. Then one day she finally passed. Hermit felt the sorrow and anger wash over him and he ran away form the cabin and into the forest. He felt sorrow, an unbelievable sense of lost, and more than anything hatred. Hatred for himself. He screamed at himself in his head "You could have saved her if only you weren't so weak. So weak. Pathetic. She was your friend your ONLY friend and you watched her die because you couldn't use your power. You could have saved her. You should have saved her. Why didn't you get help? You didn't want to fail the test. But now she's die. Your so pathetic. How could you let her down. So weak". He kept running as his stride became driven by a deeper force, in till he had run far from the cabin. He collapsed on the ground sobbing. In the grips of his pain he felt the magic course through his veins, unlock not over time through meditation by suddenly by a rush of emotional torment. This sudden rush of magic and his emotional instability ripped him apart and wrapped his mind. For the next several years Hermit lived alone in the woods. He lost his mind and forgot all about his past life even his own name. It was there he stayed while his old order was swept away by peoples lack of faith and gnoll raids. It was there he stayed as the world continued on without him. He would have continued to stay there were it not for a traveling dwarf who had become lost in the forest and would have died. Hermit happen across this dwarf and was compelled to save him. As Hermit tended to the dwarf the dwarf helped Hermit remember how to speak. The dwarf's name was Torvin and since Hermit had forgotten his name Torvin named him Hermit. During the following months Torvin told Hermit about the world he had forgotten. Hermit and Torvin became close friends so when it came time for Torvin to return to society he asked if Hermit would come with him, but Hermit declined. He was afraid of the outside world. And so Torvin left and Hermit once again was alone. Over the next few months Hermit's life returned to normal but the idea of the outside world and of other people had rooted itself in His mind. Hermit finally decided to leave the forest and find his friend. And so he left for society.


	2. Chapter 2

Geth was an orphan born in a poor district with no name. He was given the name Geth Oma by the man who ran the orphanage. Geth and the other orphans were used a cheap source of labour and were beaten if they slacked or disobeyed an order. when he was twelve Geth worked up the courage to attempt to escape, but he was caught and beaten half to death as an example and left out in the street to die. As Geth lost consciousness he heard a voice. When he awoke Geth found that his wounds were mostly healed and that he had been dragged under a makeshift shelter in an alley. Though he waited for whoever saved him to come back they never arrived. Over the next four years Geth learned how to survive in the streets. He made friends and enemies, worked different jobs, and found places to live. But nothing in his life lasted long except for his pain. Geth was always hungry, tired, cold, and alone. One cold night Geth saw a wealthy man walking through the streets and was attracted to the jingle of his coins. Geth attempted to pick his pocket as he had done many times before but this particular man was not one to be trifled with. He was the head of a major crime family and was not happy when the half-orc behind him caught Geth trying to take the money out of his pocket. The man and his muscular half-orc goon pulled Geth into an alley to kill him. The half-orc was going to break his neck but the wealthy man wanted Geth to have a more painful death so he order his friend the beat Geth an inch away from death and than throw him into the gutter. As Geth lay in the gutter dieing he once again heard the voice that had saved him that night four years ago. Geth was pulled out of the material plane and into the Fey-wilds. For the first time in his life Geth was no longer hunger, cold, and tried. He was overwhelmed by both pleasure and pain, joy and sadness. Every part of his physical and spiritual being existed in a constant state of ecstasy. And in the center of the bright light he faced was a feminine form more beautiful than any thing he had ever seen. The voice whispered in his ear and Geth was enchanted. The voice told him that it would always watch over him and that if he was good he could return and they would be together forever. Just as Geth had began to comprehend the sensations around him it was all violently taken away. Geth awoke back the material plane. His life of misery had ended and he experienced a kind of pleasure that as incomparable to any sensation in the world, and he made felt a love deeper than is possible for normal people. And now it was all gone. He returned to his hungry, tired, cold, and now badly beaten body. Geth was left to wander the world with the unforgettable memory of a better world. In his dreams he is teased by glimpses of his love. Sometimes he is given order he must follow, sometimes he is made to play songs for his mistress, and other times she simple teases him with the prospect of being with her, but he is alway sent back. Geth knows that his lady love could keep him with her any time she wanted and that she take pleasure in abusing him but he can never leave her. Geth will continue to dutiful serve his tormentor along as he lives. He will toil for her and sing her praises. With the power she grants him he will murder and steal at her behest for he will never be-able to leave her. He is her prisoner.


	3. Chapter 3

This is a sociopath warlock character I name William Bloom

William Bloom was born to a rich family. His father was Harry Bloom the head of the Bloom empire. William was a dutiful and obedient son, a perfect son in every aspect but one: he was a bastard. William's mother was Harry's elven mistress. After William was born she left him with father and walked away. William's mother saw him as an anchor; a determent to her personal freedom and she had grown to resent Harry for his growing gloominess and his lack of drive and will. Harry took on William as his son out of a love for his mistress much to the anger of his wife. Harry's wife (who herself could not bear children) hated William because he showed the world how Harry had loved another woman which she saw as an embarrassment. As a wealthy and influential family the Blooms were always under the microscope and gossip about William was a common topic of discussion among the upper echelons of society. Harry Bloom did always loved his son and his wife but he was very distant. He had become reclusive; spending most of his time alone in his study drinking allowing his council of advisers run his empire. His drinking never brought out his anger only his sadness. When Harry's wife died of a plague Harry stopped coming out of his study entirely. William now fourteen was forced to become the face of the Bloom family at important social events. His life was now run by his fathers advisors. He was told how to act and what to wear and he was punished for anything that betrayed his elven heritage. He received a scar for being unable to grow a beard. William never complained of acted childish in the company of others. At events he was always charming and polite but on his own he acted strangely. He was cold and often asked question about morality. When he was sixteen his marriage was arranged. He was to wedded to a girl named Mara who was the daughter of a wealthy coal mining barren. Mara saw this wedding as a fairy tale, see was marrying a kind, handsome, and wealthy young man who was also part elf. William married the girl and had a son as dutifully as he did everything else. Unlike his father William was kind and present in the lives of his wife and child, but also unlike his father he could not be said to have truly loved them. Mara did not get the fairy tale she wanted but she was happy. William continued to act as the face of the Bloom family but had no real power in till his father died. When he was twenty-two William's father's drinking had finally killed him and William became the official head of the family. Harry's advisors began grasping for power; each trying to gain William's favor. Within a month all of the advisors were dead. Most became victims of political espionage. Some of the advisors spoke of voices and unblinking eyes in the days before their demises. William wasted no time forming a new council of people who he could trust to look after his estate and his family. Once this council was complete he simply left just like his mother. No one really knows why he left or where he was join he just left.


	4. Chapter 4

This is for a dragonborn tempest cleric. Like the last one he is kind of a dark character and might be better as a villain but is a very fun character to play.

Balasar Daardendrian was born on the sea. He was destined to be a sailor. He was a bronze Dragonborn who was born to a nomadic sea faring tribe. Balasar like many of the members of his tribe left when he was eighteen to join larger ships. Also like many members of his tribe Balasar was welcomed as a member of any crew for his people were renowned for the ocean-iring ability, athleticism, and kindness. Balasar found the biggest shift he had to adapt to was the idea of the existence of gods. His tribe worshiped nature as an unknowable spiritual vastness, but among these new people Balasar learned of gods. Gods that put faces to the forces of nature. Gods like Paladine the god of rulers and guardians, Kiri-Jolith the god of honor and war, and Mishakal rhe goddess of healing. But there was one named that stood out among the rest. While Balasar learned of most these new gods from priests and clerics the god whose name he heard more than any came form the curses of the sailors. Zeboim. Zeboim was the goddess of the seas and storms. Her name was not sung in praises by the dutiful and pious, nor was her word preached by zealous clergymen. She was only ever spoken of as the bane of sailors. As equal to a devil. Balasar continued his new life and excepted his new gods. It wasn't in till many years later that Balasar would find that his fate was inseparably intertwined with the great bane of sailors.

Balasar was hired as part of a crew that was to escort a small anonymous group over sea. The group was clearly wealthy and payed up front so the crew accepted. What the crew did not anticipate was that this would be among one of the most perilous journeys they had ever endured. The party was assaulted by seemingly endless waves of pirates and marauders. Most attacks could be outrun but the few that managed to board the ship killed almost all the crew. Balasar and the other sailors were forced to fight for their lives. Most of the crew had little fighting experience fight other than drunken brawls. The battles were rage fueled chaotic hazes where strategy and weaponry were replaced by mindless blood lust and improvised weapons made of fish hooks and repair tools. Balasar as a dragonborn killed countless men with his brute strength and lightning breath. during his animalistic frenzied state he killed anyone unfortunate enough to cross his pass, unable to recognize friend form foe. By the time they had finally escaped the marauders most of the crew was dead and only one of the party they were meant to protect was left alive. The survivors were in the clear but they had to live in the wake of the darkness they had just faced; both physically and mentally exhausted. After all they had survived they were finally safe from the pirates. It was at this time the ship was hit by a storm. They survived the wrath of men only to be defeated by the chaotic forces of nature. But to his surprise Balasar didn't die that day. He found himself washed ashore on an unknown beach. He was broken and tried. Out of ingrained habit Balasar spoke a curse he had spoken many times before but this time things were different. As he uttered his hateful words they felt empty on his lips. Balasar did something he had not done since he had left his tribe. He closed his eyes, breathed deep the flavors of the ocean air, and on that cool beach he meditated. He thought of his old gods, his new gods, and of Zeboim the sailors devil. When he opened his eyes several hours later he stood and walked in the direction of the nearest settlement. He had seen the face of true evil wearing the masks of men. He knew then that the lawful natures of man and gods hides the evil just under the surface like a reef in murky water. Men fear chaos because it doesn't care about the face they put forward, it doesn't care what men pretend to be, chaos strikes men regardless of who they are or pretend to be. Chaos strikes all men, and Balasar shall be an agent of chaos.

Dragon thor is a BEAST, though he often gets into fights with other characters. Please play responsibly.


	5. Chapter 5

This is unique back story for a very unique rouge.

Fleg was born in bad part of a bad city. When he was nine he joined a kid gang picking pockets, stealing things, even sometimes acting as spies for adults. Fleg stood out of the gang as a half-orc, which combined with his unusually large stature to make him very intimidating. Fleg was also a valued member of the gang because of his seemingly natural gift for fighting. When he was twelve he started mugging grown men. In other word he was tough as a coffin nail. At sixteen Fleg realized he needed to use his talents for something more lucrative. He then started working as a bodyguard of an alchemist connected to a larger crime ring. Fleg had always been the muscle in every gang he had been in but he wasn't dumb. Fleg was cunning and knew that if he wanted to move up the ranks the trait that he would need to exhibit more than anything was loyalty. When the alchemist Fleg worked for came under the scrutiny of the law Fleg was interrogated by the authorities. They beat him, told him that his employer had all ready confessed, even threatened his life but for every thing they said he simply spit in their faces and took another beating. They finally released him and he discovered that because he refused to speak his boss walked free. It was then when the local crime lord Igan Starag took an interest. Igan had violently seized power from the last crime lord and had over taken his empire. While most men would bask in the glory of their empires Igan had grown paranoid. He knew fully well that most of the operations that were now loyal to him had before been loyal to the previous crime lord and that their loyalties could shift at any moment if someone else tried to over through him. Igan saw this young tough as steel and impossibly loyal half-orc as a godsend. Fleg was recruited immediately as one of Igan's bodyguard. Fleg knew that if he worked hard and stayed loyal he could eventually gain more responsibilities and become a major player.

The next five years of his life were the good years of he life, but Igan's paranoia was growing. On one day Igan told Fleg that they were going on a walk and loyally as ever Fleg followed his boss to protect him the walk was going well Fleg knew that no one would dare attack the kingpin especially with Fleg there, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed a young teen stealthily approaching his boss. Fleg watched as the teen swiftly reached into his bosses pocket, so loyally as ever Fleg grabbed the boy. Igan and Fleg dragged the boy into an alley. Igan questioned the boy asking him who hired him and the boy simply responded that no one hired him. Igan didn't believe him. Fleg said he could snap the boys neck, but Igan wanted to send a message to his imaginary enemies so he told Fleg to beat the boy to the verge of death and leave him to be eaten alive by the rats, and loyally as ever Fleg obeyed. Fleg killed the boy and left him as a message to an adversary he knew didn't exist for a corrupt paranoid man, but he did do it. Yet it the morning the boys body was nowhere to be found with only a little blood at the scene. Igan saw this as Fleg's betrayal, he must have intentionally left the boy alive. Fleg was killed. His throat cut and his body dumped on the street Fleg was no more. But Fleg had set plans that were set in motion on his death. The alchemist Fleg had saved from prison all those years ago was to preform a resurrection on Fleg. Unfortunately for Fleg the alchemist may have overstated his abilities and resurrection is not the same as reincarnation. Fleg awoke on the alchemists table ready for revenge, full of rage, and not in his own body. Fleg the unusually large muscular half-orc has reborn in a new body, that of a light foot halfling. The half-orc who had always been the biggest one in the room, who could toe-to-toe with grown men by the age of twelve was now sort and weak. He would have beaten the alchemist to death if only he had hid old strength. Fleg left that building on a mission to turn the crime world against Igan and kill him. But to do that he is going to half to train his new body and skills. So he left to train himself and get his revenge.

In retrospect this could have been more fun as a different race (imagine Fleg the half-orc getting catcalled and the role play potential of that situation). It could even be a great allegory for the struggle of a trans-gender person (being one thing but being trapped in the body of another).


	6. Chapter 6

This is a genasi monk. So original (sarcasm)

Vilis Patariki was raised from birth by monastic order call the the order of the Guiltless high in the mountains. The order of the guiltless was itself a small part of a much larger organization that went by no name. This secret network had spies in every throne room, agents in every town, and secret armies of soldiers living out normal lives. The network was sinister but their goals benevolent; they were always dedicated to slaying the forces of evil across the world. The order raised children from a young age to be fighters. They were told that to become a true master they had to shed all traces of guilt and remorse. That they must learn to control their emotions with and iron fist. Vilis was ill suited to this philosophy. As an air genasi he found it hard to control his emotions and didn't want to follow orders. For most children Vilis's behavior would have been met by swift and brutal punishment or even death but his case was special. Vilis's father was a sleeper agent of the network living in a small town as a cobbler. He fell in love a local woman and married her. He worked in his shop and she taught local children how to read. Eventually they decided to have a child. He lived his life like any man only ever once having to draw on his training to kill an murderess oni. On the day of Vilis and his twin sister's birth came Vilis's father was overjoyed. He helped his wife birth a beautiful baby daughter and then a boy. But the boy was not what was expected. Elemental magic that had lain dormant for generations had manifested in Vilis. His skin was blue and his cry had an unnatural echo. Vilis's father saw this as a sign that his wife had not only cheated on him but she must have cheated on him with a devil. When he murdered his wife he felt no anger or sadness. He took his children away and disappeared for the town. He took his children to the network to be examined, to see what kind of demon his son was and if his daughter had been tainted. When they concluded that Vilis was not a demon but a genasi they told his father that both of his children had been killed and sent him to his next assignment. His children however were sent to different parts of the organization far from were they could potentially be corrupted by their familial ties.

It was at the order of the Guiltless that Vilis lived and trained to control his emotions. It was a hard life trying and failing to do what came so easily to others. The masters would have given up on his training long ago if not for the favor that one of the masters owed to Vilis's father. The other masters found this disturbing but did not question him when he continued to train Vilis. The master knew that the order would not stop him but if the network caught wind of his impartial judgments it would spell his end and possibly the end of the order so he had a plan. He told Vilis to forget his training and to never speak a word of the order. With this last piece of advice the master cast his down from the mountain letting him fall to the ground. No novice could survive. But as he fell Vilis smiled and mingled with the wind floating away. Vilis was given a chance to start a new life that he never expected. He now wanders the world as a street performer. But he never forgot his marital training or the cause he was trained to uphold.

When I first had this idea Vilis was going to be a fire genasi vengeance paladin who is a loyal member of the network but I have enough dark characters and I wanted to play a happier one so I reworked him into this. Fun character to play but the fact that he can never talk about his past makes his actual origin kind of pointless. My DM did make a sort of mini campaign were Vilis got found out by the network and we had to fight a bunch of colourful assassins.


	7. Chapter 7

This is a heroic tiefling fighter but with a bit of a twist

There are places in the world where men and women will gather in village pubs and taverns to eat, drink, and share stories of folk tales and heroes. Few of these stories are as captivating and the legend of the "Helmed Knight". Some say he is nine feet tall, others say, he rides a unicorn, his sword glows bright colours, his sword is a living creature itself, that he has a small grey animal that sits on his shoulder, or that he is actually a she. No matter who tells the story a few key details always remain the same; he is a tiefling who protects farmers and travelers from menaces of all kinds, he has huge spiral horns and an unusually long tail, he wears armor from head to toe with a large black cloak covering him, he has a great sword over his back with scimitar on his hip, and most peculiarly of all he wears a helmet that seems to cover his entire head. Some say the helmet is enchanted of just an illusion others say he lost his head and the helmet is the replacement. No one knows the true story.

The so called Helmed Knight's true name is Hope Marsk. His was an unremarkable upbringing. He was born to a couple of ordinary tiefling farmers. When he was young he was a source of endless trouble, he caused shenanigans as a child and raised hell as a teenager. He like most sons of farmers dreamed of moving away but like only a few he actually did. When he was eighteen he saw his opportunity to get away and see the world in the form of a "recruitment" officer who was traveling to local villages to conscript young men for the army. Hope happily volunteered. He quickly became a skilled fighter, surpassing all other recruits. His natural gift of fighting seemingly matched only by his crippling inability to take orders. While the army was hesitant to discharge him outright he was unable to rise through the ranks like most skilled soldiers. He was demoted within hours of his first promotion for taking his legion on a "practice raid" of a local whorehouse. It wasn't until the night of the great wasp fiasco that he was finally dishonorable discharged. Hope left smiling. He wandered off to have his great adventure. His adventure started out great when he saw what appeared to be a man being robbed at knife point be another man. Hope saw this as easy money; just save the man and get paid. He strode confidently towards the two men sword drawn and with a booming voice told the man to drop the knife. It was only when the mugger turned around did Hope see that he had no knife. Hope only had a moment to think how the other man was being robbed when the assailant had no weapon before he saw a wicked spread across the muggers face and Hope was engulfed in flames. He felt his skin melt and his muscles sizzle. He lost his vision as his eyes boiled and his screams seemed to fade away as he was left only with the sense of intense pain before he blacked out, knowing with his last thought that he was about to die.

But he didn't die. He awoke only with the sense of agony. Hope knew he was screaming but he couldn't hear it. He felt oil being poured on his crisp skin follow by a gentle touch; both of which felt like being stabbed. Hope then felt a soothing sensation flow through him and he was given a moment of relief. A hand brought a cup of water to his lips which he painfully sipped from as the moment of peace quickly ended and Hope was again let alone to scream phantom screams. This pattern continued for what felt like eternity (not that Hope had anyway of even trying to tell time); the mysterious caretaker would tend to his wounds with magical and non-magical means as well as feed him and clean him. As Hope slowly recovered and began to regain his strength he found that the caretaker only took care of him never trying to communicate. Hope asked him question unsure if he was even speaking close to the right words. The very last thing this anonymous savior did was slice across Hope's palm with a knife after which he wrapped the wound and disappeared. When Hope awoke that "morning" it was to the deafening singing of birds and the blinding light of the midday sun. As Hope realized what was happening his eyes filled with joyous tears. As his eyes adjusted he was greeted by the sight of his own burnt deformed face. Hope saw his lips move and heard his own voice as he cried out in surprise. It took him a few hours to learn to control the eyes looking at himself. He felt a body separate from his but still his and he felt a mind separate from him but still his. Hope explored his surroundings and found him self in a small cabin, his savior was nowhere around. He soon found that his new appendage was in reality a homunculus a small flying construct that Hope had heard of but never seen before. Hope found weapons, armor, and supplies in the cabin. He had been given a second chance for his great adventure. With his homunculus as his eyes and ears Hope left the cabin on a quest to be a real hero and to save others. He is now a mysterious savoir of the people like one man was to him.

I'm not going to lie Daredevil was the inspiration of this character. As much as I love darker characters sometimes it's nice to play a more genuinely heroic (but no less bad ass) one.


	8. Chapter 8

This is schizophrenic goliath barbarian named Bordello Forsaken Ogolakanu

In places high on mountain tops few creatures can survive, even fewer humanoids. But there is one race that thrives in the cold climate and high elevation; the goliaths. The goliaths live in one of the worlds harshest environments. Each goliath must fight to survive and carry their own weight. One such goliath was Bordello "Bear Breaker" Ogolakanu. Bordello was a typical Goliath; hyper competitive and brutally fierce. He earned the name "Bear Breaker" for breaking a bear's back over his knee. He killed the bear and wore its skin. But now he need to out do himself. He needed to be stronger. Bear Breaker had heard tell of an aarakocra shaman living on a nearby mountain. Bordello traveled to this remote mountain to visit this shaman. When he arrived he found a crowded shack with an old aarakocra two scars on his back where his wings used to be. Bear Breaker sat with this shaman and shared a pot of tea with him. After sometime Bordello asked the shaman about gaining the strength he craved. The shaman paused and after a few painful moments of silence he finally responded. "I can give you the strength you be seekin' but if I see your soul and it not be strong enough I will stop and you must leave. Can you handle that". Bordello told a deep breath and responded with one word "aye". Bordello cast of his fur shirt and lay down on on the cabin floor as the aarakocra grabbed a bowl and a brush. He began chanting a strange tongue while painting seemingly random lines across Bear Breaker's chest which sat cool and wet on his flesh. Bear Breaker relaxed; breathing slowly just waiting for the pay off he had come for. As the shaman continued chanting the paint began to dry. The paint grew warm. The shaman continued chanting. Then the paint began to burn. The shaman continued chanting. Bordello clenched his fists as the paint grew hotter than any fire, hotter than Bordello thought possible. The shaman continued chanting. As it finally broke him he cried out in pain. The shaman continued chanting. Bordello gritted his teeth and faced the pain as it washed over him. The shaman stopped chanting. The paint was cool and wet. Bear Breaker sat up and asked "Is it over". The shaman replied "In a way". "What do you mean". "I will not do no more ritual on you. Your soul's too weak". "What do you mean!? I took the pain". "Your body's strong but your soul is weak. Now get you out of here". Bordello stood up, seized his axe, grabbed the aarakocra by the feathers on his head, and holding him up put the axe to his throat. "I didn't come all this way to be rejected. I don't care if you think I'm worthy or not your going to finish it". As Bordello released the shaman and he fell to the ground he responded "It's not that your soul's not worthy it's just to weak. It can't handle the ritual". "I'll decide what my soul can handle". And so the ritual started again. The paint was wet and dry and the shaman started chanting. Bear Breaker took the pain as the paint started to burn; he would not let any sign of weakness escape. The paint burned his flesh like it had before but as the shaman continued chanting something new happened. The burning started burrowing under his skin, it broke through to his veins and began to spread through his entire body. The agony Bordello experienced was nearly unbearable but he took it. Then the burning spread over his entire body, seizing him, growing to a type of pain greater than the scope of experience of mortals. He cried out in a deep agony as he felt every fiber of his being in pain. His eyes felt like they were ripped apart, his bones splintered and broke, and his organs wear torn apart. As the agony climaxed Bordello gripped tight his bear skin shirt and the world went black.

The next thing Bear Breaker knew he was lying in the snow. He checked himself for injury but found non. In the valley below him was a small human town that he had never seen before. With his stomach growling he trudged towards the town. The inn keeper (who Bordello suspected had never seen a goliath before) agreed to let him stay and give him food if he would help him do repairs the next day. As he sat in his rented room he thought back on the events that had transpired in the cabin. He had failed. He would have to prepare himself for the pain so he could try again. The inn keeper gave a knock on the door "I've got your dinner". How could the shaman tempt him like that? Anyone would have cracked under that pain so there must be something else going on. How dare that shaman trick him! Bear Breaker heard the inn keeper enter and without looking thanked him. The response that he received was a inhuman snarl. As he quickly turned around Bordello came face to face with an inhuman aberration; half snarling beast half shadow. Bordello seized his axe and before the monster could react he struck it down. It disappeared in puff of black smoke Bear Breaker looked down at the corpse of the inn keeper the horror had murdered. He looked out his window and saw several more of the monsters stalking the streets. Bordello would have to kill these monsters. From street to street house to house he went striking down horror after horror finding no survivors of the creatures massacre. He continued slaying the creatures until only one creature and its unholy spawn were left running into the mountains to escape. With unstoppable strength and conviction Bordello chased them. When he finally caught them he struck them down. His task was done. As he looked down at the bodies of a mother and her child lying dead in the snow a thought passed as calmly through his mind as any other; how did these end up out here? As if shaken loose by this simple question a rush of memories struck him. He remembered going house to house but in his memory there were no monsters only men, women, and children all begging for their lives. There in the snow Bordello knew that the ritual had worked and that the shaman was right. From that day on he cast off the name Bear Breaker and Wore the name Forsaken. When the day came that he found the shack of the old shaman he found it demolished as if by an abominable yeti but Bordello knew the real cause. He left the mountains not in the hopes of finding anything in particular he simple left to find anything that could give his life meaning though he dared not hope.

My DM (who is an unbelievably cool guy) worked this out with me that I get increased strength and constitution scores but with the debuff that I sometimes mistake allies or NPC's for monsters. While this guy is a tragic character through and through he has become a happier character as time when on and he gained a sort of redemption by harnessing his curse, unlike a lot of my tragic character who have little to no room for a character arc. (PS Bordello actually means brothel but it's one of the few Russian words i remember and I like the sound of it)


	9. Chapter 9

This is character doesn't really have a known origin but he's my favorite bard and I wanted to write something so here is the story of Drifter.

Callum Máel Coluim MacGregor of the noble MacGregor house with his rapier for protection had decided to take a walk through the fields of barley, carrots, potato, and turnips that had been planted by his families serfs last spring. All the serfs were at church to receive their weekly blessings so Callum could take a peaceful walk without being disturbed. Callum was nearly of marrying age. He was an extremely smart and well-educated man of great class. Callum was also a very proud man and with good reason. The MacGregor's were a very old and powerful family who commanded the respect of all other noble families, and who had amassed great wealth to command the respect of everyone else.

It was on his walk that Callum heard music drifting over the hills. Curious, Callum walked in the direction of the song. As he peeked over the cresting hill he saw a tiefling walking slowly down the road while playing an instrument that Callum saw as similar to the lute that his father's orchestra featured predominantly but must larger and with a must deeper rougher sound. Similarly the tiefling's voice had a melodic delivery but was incredibly rough. As Callum listened he thought to himself "so this is what an old unused hearth would sound like if it tried talking" he then smiled to himself at the wittiness of his mind. The tiefling's song like his instrument was foreign to Callum even though he had seen performances by some of the greatest orchestras in the world. But the strangest thing of all was the presence of the tiefling himself. Lord MacGregor had a well documented distrust of tieflings so Callum knew that this wasn't one of the serfs or he would have heard about it and beyond that all the serfs were at the church. It was at this time that tiefling's song came to an immediate stop along with his march. "Are you gonna just stand there boy? Or are you gonna come out and talk to me?". Callum was briefly taken aback before he regained his composure and stepped forward with his curiosity leading him. "That sure is a novel style you have" Callum said playfully. "It's a song sung for the people. I don't think a rich young man like yourself would be able to understand its themes" the tiefling teased "So what are the songs of the people about then?" Callum asked. "Troubles". Callum smiled, he had not expected any kind of wits from this traveler. "So where is this man of the people traveling now?". The tiefling then paused and slowly turned to look at Callum. Callum again found himself taken aback and again quickly regained himself. The tiefling was by no doubt old but his face had a timeless quality. His two eyes burned with passion, wit, and an endless capacity to disassemble anything in front of him, and his mouth wore a wicked grin that sent a shiver down Callum's spine. "Where ever the roads lead me". Recovering quickly Callum responded "So where do the roads usually lead you?" "Boy I've been all over the place. I've been in the biggest cities and ghost towns, I've met street urchins and kings, heroes and villains, but more than anything I've met angels and devils". "Angels and devils? I'll have to go to your purlieu's, it sounds like there is quite a interesting group of people." The tiefling's wicked smile grew wider "You don't believe me do you?" his smile grew even wider "You see boy the roads have a flow too 'em, like a river, it's a magic flow. Now at the crossroads were these roads meet the flow creates a kind of vortex. It's at these crossroads that angels and devils can rise" the tiefling's smile widened farther and he lower his head hiding his eyes in shadow "though most men can hardly tell the difference". Callum found himself being oddly angered by this statement. "You've told me where you've been so were are you going?" "I thought I already told you; I go where ever the roads lead me, but if you want me to be more specific I'm on my way to castle MacGregor" Callum was caught off guard by this statement and caught the tieflings gaze as he raised his eyes. "That's your place ain't it?". Callum felt his anger growing "And just what makes you think that we will let you in?" "Boy, there ain't a single place in the world that I can't go, and there ain't a single person who can stop me once I set my heart to a place". His anger now swelling Callum drew his rapier stopping it just an inch from the tiefling's face, the tiefling didn't flinch. "Just who do you think you are, peasant!" Callum spat, but the tiefling's unyielding eyes left him with a growing sense of fear. The tiefling laughed quietly to himself "The common folk know me as 'the Drifter' because the common folk know my story. The common folk know that I go where I please and that I can't be stopped, they know to let me in, give me food, and shelter. They know that if they're nice to me only good came come of it. But you rich folk in the upper echelon of society don't ever share my story, you don't know to let me in." Callum's fear swelled but was out of no where suddenly gone. The fire was gone for Drifter's eyes and the honey from his voice. His smile was now just the crooked smile of a stupid old man. The Drifter was just some delusional wanderer. Callum dropped his sword to his side and walked away leaving this sad peasant to be. By lunchtime he didn't even remember the encounter.

Callum had a long time ago learned to recognize dreams when during his childhood he faced a spell of night terrors. To deal with these he had to learn to tell the difference between dreams and reality. Of course once he learned to recognize dreams he also learned to control them, which is why he was so surprised when out of nowhere music came drifting into his dream. As soon as Callum remember where he had heard that music before Drifter was there. "I told there ain't nowhere I can't go, even inside peoples dreams" "Congratulations you made your way into my subconscious but you're nothing more than a construct of my own mind, so get out of my dream". The Drifter just laughed "Remember what I told you about crossroads? You see every man follows his own road and when two roads meet angels or devils can rise. Now you made your choice when refuse to show me hospitality, so you created a devil.". Callum tried to force the Drifter out of his head but he couldn't "Leave he alone!" Callum shouted but the Drifter just smiled. Callum could hardly contain his fear "Get out!". The Drifter simply smiled, his mouth full of hundreds, no millions of square tombstone shaped teeth. He opened his mouth reveling a black void. Callum screamed. When his servant rush into his room Callum was found dead.

Lord MacGregor spared no expense on his sons funeral, every powerful family, noble man, and artisan in the land came. The greatest orchestra lord MacGregor could buy can to play and a grand cleric was hired to preform the ceremony. It was a grand affair. When lord MacGregor's eyes scanned the crowd he saw all sorts of great men, and one poor looking tiefling. Lord MacGregor hated tieflings. How dare this fiend invade his home on the day of his sons funeral. It was at this point that the tiefling stepped forward as the cleric stepped down. The tiefling raised his instrument and began to play. He played a type a commoner music that lord MacGregor always hated. This arrogant tiefling with his commoner music how dare he thought lord MacGregor, but just as he was about to get up to cast out this intruder his anger was replaced by sadness at the loss of his son. Until now he had refused to face his grief but now it was being brought out by this strangers song. He sang about the road of life but lord MacGregor heard only a song about his son, and in that brief moment he felt closure. After the funeral he approached the stranger to ask him "Who are you?" "I'm just a travel looking for a place to stay for the night" "You can stay at our castle it is the least we can do for you" "Why thank you". That night Drifter and lord MacGregor talked about Callum, about politics, about everything. Drifter even gave lord MacGregor some good advice about trading routes. In the morning Drifter was gone without a trace.

If you don't like the blues then you won't get this character. This story might make him seem like a bad guy but he really is as good to you as you are to him. The big question I had to ask was does Drifter play guitar or harmonica and I think harmonica might actually be the better choice though he was created with a guitar.


End file.
